Queen Anne, Wife of Richard III
by SleepyRedGirl
Summary: A few of Anne's thoughts on her first night in the Tower. This is one interpretation of her character, and Con.Crit. is very welcome.


The sun has shone its last today. Is this the first of many solitary nights? Too deep in dreams, Richard never awoke; but his murmurs and calls, his jolts and turnings endlessly disturbed me. Whatever he saw, whatever he felt, it must have been Devil-sent to keep him under as it did. 'Twas a cold marital bed, even consummated - I awake and perturbed, he icy and plagued. Here I may sleep in peace, liberated from his nightmares. Peace - what peace can there be for those who must sleep in this Tower? With resignation I must lay my head, if this were not a pillow but an executioner's block. As George, the Duke of Clarence, before me, I will leave this place only in my burial gown.

This of my own doing, I led myself to this chamber. I have a womanly heart but no man's brain, I can only take a little comfort that no one will ever know how foolish I truly was. The Queen and Duchess may have heard, but they will not have understood. Perhaps even Richard never cared to fathom my motives. As I wished, I am now the Queen of all England - crowned by my machinations, damned by the whim of Fortune.

The sun rose that day a capricious star, knowing and malevolent. Oh, if only Richard had mounted his steed in haste disallowed to his malformed frame, if only innocent peasantry had delayed our procession, then I wouldn't have cursed myself with my own tongue.

I escorted poor Henry to his tomb in bitterness. He had once been King, his son heir to the throne and I heir to the throne of a Queen. I recognised that my own chances of becoming Queen would turn again to ashes in his grave. In that fiery bitterness, I cursed violently enough for the corpse itself to hear my lamentations. In pitiful ignorance, I cursed his killer - the very hilarity is anguish to me. I cursed him and his blood, his wife and children. Oh, this is tragic comedy! No sooner than these words fell from my lips did malicious Fortune drop opportunity into my hands.

When Richard arrived he cast a shadow like a crawling creature from the Pit, and as I only saw him as the man who robbed me of nobility and power I cursed him still. His compliments were lies - I am no sweet saint, and he said so with false intention. Richard, why ever did you woo me? Was I of any real use to you? No matter - beggars cannot be choosers. You opened the door back into royalty, and I would have given anything for entry. But to reveal so would only have damaged myself, and I feigned continuing loyalty to the House of Lancashire. Besides, Richard is a devil of a man, delighting in war and slaughter. Queen Margaret recalls in fear the bleeding body of Henry, and that spilt blood staining her white breast, Richard's weapon pressed threateningly on that weak flesh. One should not ally themselves without great consideration and no little courage. I took his ring without words of commitment, I took without giving; all was a frail pretence of being ladylike as I considered my position. Greed won through and I accepted his name as wife, but I heeded not my own curse. Foolish, foolish woman.

And now, in this quiet and dark, I can confess in full. At the bottom of my heart, I want to weep and wail a little, indulge my sorrow. Richard's mother and the Duchess heard a little of my lamentations, but they were not true to the core. I regret not my desertion of Lancashire and my marriage to Richard, for am I not now Queen? No, I regret my hasty words and their unseen implications, which have made a poor Queen of me. I wished in their presence that my crown could be of red-hot steel, aware in full irony that it was I who heated the selfsame crown in the fires of Pandemonium. God save this pitiful Queen, for no human can.

I told them Richard would end me for my father, but was it not my own curses that spelt my end? Now I am herein mewed, I can be dispatched in solitude. I shall meet that Angel of Death with a knowing smile, and bow my head to him in gratitude.

_Foolish woman._

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The author says:  
_I wrote this as a fanwork of Shakespeare, not a historical theory. I worked with the information given in the play Richard III, and not from the history books. To see my short analysis of the scenes this was based on, please visit sleepyredgirl's Livejournal and mention this fanwork._


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